ইচ্ছে উড়ান

এত হিসেব, এত নিকেষ

ঘৃণা, দ্বন্দ্ব, ভয়

ক্লান্তি, বিদ্বেষ

বেসামাল আবেগের মোহনা

চেতনায় রক্তাক্ত আশ্লেষ

আবছায়াতে চেনা অবয়ব

কঠিনে ফেরায় স্রোত

নিবিড় তাপ

তুচ্ছ, গরম বালুতে পা

এরই জন্যে - এই নিমেষ

সংক্ষিপ্ত হেমন্তের বিষন্নতায়

ছাতিম গন্ধের আবেশ

নরম স্বপ্নে

ঠোঁট-ছোঁয়া আঙুলে

বিলোতে পারি, নিজেকে, নিঃশেষ।

জয়ীতা সেন রায়

Breaking of barbed wires in our blood

At the peril of sounding trite, I nevertheless would like to share the feeling of pride with each of my fellow Indians at the juncture that we have arrived today after a long and tedious 69 years of journey. There certainly was a scope of achieving so much more than what we have today...there is so much to crib about, valuable efforts and talents wasted...agree...But again, there is Dipa, our low cost Mars mission, the Chandrayaan mission, the eradication of polio amongst a whopping 1.3 billon people and bringing over 200 million people out of illiteracy are certainly aspects that gladdens my heart. We are moving ahead, even if in tiny baby steps...we have miles to go...yet, with that first step that we had taken...we had already broken the barbed wires in our psyche, that had restricted us. And to me...That is what the essence of freedom and Independence is.

How Blue was My Sapphire

All of us live with our past. All of us allow it to shape our future. But some of us know how to shrug off the past. I always thought that, 'the past' per se was a bucketful of ashes, burnt up and gone. It was a waste of time to keep re-visiting memories. At least, that is what I would like myself to believe. 

Working late shifts at my office, looking at the expansive city limits, glittering like vari-coloured gems, through the all-glass walls, at times I seem to be in a stupor. The silence of the normally busy lobby, just across my room with its dimmed lights allowing moonlight to pour in through the glass walls, slowly touching upon the furniture and the potted greenery was bewitching. I seemed to be slowly slipping into almost a psychedelic languor. Two beautiful, brutal and unrelenting blue eyes seemed to flash out from the darkest corner of my room, near the ceiling. An eerie chill shook me out of my haze as I strode purposefully towards the coffee machine at the end of the hall. A cup of piping hot coffee was all that I needed now to pull me out of the absurd debris that was littering my mind. I returned to my seat, and concentrated on the proposal that I was working on. I needed to revert to my client at the earliest. Yet, my concentration was disrupted time and again by that one incident, which kept coming back to me.

The sunlight oozing in through the curtains, startled me, as soon as I opened my eyes, forcing me to close them again. My fingers frantically touched upon objects on my bedside table, in vain attempts to stop the snoozing alarm clock. I had to brave the piercing sunlight in my eyes to stop the jarring sound. I lay on my back, still, contemplative. These few minutes of early morning peace and quiet, with the sound of water, left running in the kitchen sink by Beni, preparing my tea, and my outstretched hands rubbing against Niloufer’s back, were the ‘me’ moments that I cherished the most. These few coveted minutes provided me with an epicurean sensitivity and a feeling of security that perhaps nothing else could. This was my comfort zone, my home, where I could keep my mask aside, even if it was for a couple of waking hours. Beni’s entry, paused my thoughts in their tracks. I was pushed out of bed, as she started patting down my bedsheet in placeand fluffing up my pillows after planting the tray holding my tea cup on my bedside table, all the while grumbling and muttering about something that she was not so happy about. This time it seemed that the gardener was in her bad books. Beni’s well-intentioned but hyper activities strangely relaxed me.

Beni was my chum, my cook, my guide, my house-keeper as well as my alter ego, all rolled into one.She was the one, who I could call my kin, in this entire world. From the time, that I came into my own, understood that I was a girl, whom, nobody wanted to share their name with, whom, nobody cared for in particular. I realized that the big house that I grew up in and the other children, who I grew up with were none that I could call my own, Beni was the cook at the orphanage, where I had been abandoned as a baby and she had, taken me under her wings. She had a family, a husband and a son, and despite the fact that there were so many other similar children to feed and look after, I could clearly feel from that young age, that she reserved a special place for me and was always looking out for pretexts to spend some time with me and excuses to feed me something extra smuggled out from the kitchen. 

Perhaps, the Greater Force tried to balance his act of depriving me of a family, right from birth, and tried to make up for my lack in attractiveness in terms of looks by providing me with superior grey matter. And owing to that, I financed my studies with the means of scholarships right from school through my university. In that particular area, I always stood out from other children of the orphanage and the authorities decided to let me carry on with my studies. After completing my M.Tech, and after securing a plum job with an even plumper salary, I secured my first accommodations, an apartment on the fifth floor of a tower, in a housing complex, a place that I finally could think of and call my own. The next thing that, I did after settling down in my apartment was to search and to locate Beni, who by then was living alone after the death of her alcoholic husband and her abandonment by her son. And for the first time in my life, I had a home and a family. 

Niloufer came into my life, just a few days after I had settled down with Beni in my new life. My neighbour’s cat had a litter, and as I struck up a conversation with her, she offered me one kitten from the litter. The moment I saw Niloufer, I knew that she was mine. She was the albino of the litter, with a striking white coat and the deepest of blue eyes. As I picked her up from her mother’s side, she curled up and nestled in the crook of my arm, as if that is where, she had always belonged. With time she grew to be extremely possessive about me, disliking even Beni’s presence around me at times. She was one of the most beautiful, affectionate and pampered creature that I had ever met, and she strutted about the apartment with a lordly air and a regal contempt for the gross and sordid things of earth. At times, when my sleep was disrupted at night after my string of usual nightmares and I looked across I would find, Niloufer staring at me, her bright blue eyes piercing through the darkness and at times, this sent a chill down my spine, though I knew that this was baseless. 

Beni’s grumbles were increasing directly in proportion with my late working hours. I could understand her concern for my safety, and at times, I even enjoyed them, as she fretted over me and pampered me, after I came back from work. After a hot shower, I had the privilege of putting my feet up on the sofa in front of the TV, with a plate of hot dinner, served in front of me, and Niloufer curled up at my feet. 

My life felt really good as I sat watching the inference about the presence or absence of alien intervention in the course of development of human civilisation on the History Channel, when I heard the glass window panes slamming against each other. Before I could react and call out to Beni, to close the windows, thinking that a storm was brewing, my sofa started shaking and swaying. I heard, Beni’s footsteps running up to me and was astounded to find Niloufer retreating to the corner of the room, all the while hissing and spitting. My head had started to reel as the shaking increased, and the furniture had started to rattle and to move out of their place, I understood that we were in the midst of an earthquake. It took me a few moments to comprehend what exactly was taking place and in a blink and you miss moment, I scooped up Niloufer in my arms, caught hold of Beni’s shaking shoulder and guided them towards the door. Before I could reach the door, the lights went out and I passed out after I received a stunning blow from something hitting me on the head.

 

A dull throbbing pain was the first thing that I sensed, as I regained consciousness. I was lying under a pile of rubble, with my left leg stuck under a chunk of concrete. In the pale grey light that appeared to filter in from some corner, I found Niloufer, completely safe, excepting for a few scratches and a layer of dust on her coat, licking my face and trying to wake me up. As I pulled myself up, I found that I could raise only part of my body and that Beni’s unconscious body lay only a few feet away from me, but out of my hand’s reach. It occurred to me, that I was unable even to determine whether she was alive or dead. I had never felt so incapable or defenseless previously. Niloufer seemed to read my mind and with difficulty moved in between the beams, concrete slabs and the naked, hissing wires to where, Beni lay motionless. Then with the utmost ability she had, Niloufer, tried to wake up Beni, by pushing her head with her paw and scratching her hand and all the while making loud meowing sound. 

After what seemed like an eternity, I heard Beni groan, and almost at the same time heard the sound of human voices and activities. Niloufer’s mews and my cries attracted human attention as I heard shovels working overtime above my head. Daylight was trickling in, as I cried out with pain and relief at a human face peering down on me. With a lot of effort, as the men tried to pry and move the concrete slab from over my leg, I screamed out in sheer agony, as I could hear the crackle of my bones before I passed out again. 

Lying in the general ward, in a hospital bed next to Beni, who had suffered minor injuries only, fortunately, I knew the inevitable. While there were so many human lives at stake, the value of animal lives, were at the end of the priority list of the rescue personnel. My redeemer, who had saved Beni’s and my life, had hardly given a thought about saving Niloufer. And that night, the night after the earthquake, I first saw, Niloufer’s sapphire-blue, piercing, brutal eyes staring at me from the corner of the dark ceiling. And every night after that, my sapphires came back to me again and again. I have been able to shrug off so much of what life had unfairly meted out to me, but Niloufer, ensured that I would never be able to shrug off her presence, her memories and her remembrances from my life.

Life Will Find a Way

It was the first thought that came to her as she woke up. He was gone. And, soon, this bedroom, the house in whose eastern corner it sat, and the tiny garden outside with its gnarled old red hibiscus and the half-grown mango tree they had planted together, all those would be gone as well. It was the strangest feeling ever. 

Her hands moved over her belly, as if by reflex. It felt swollen, taut and cold. Her hands froze in fear, a lump formed inside her throat, beads of sweat covered her temples. She frantically massaged her belly as if to look for some signs of movement, ‘wake up, ‘babu’, she kept muttering to herself’ as she continued rubbing her belly. It was hot like a furnace. Sunil had switched off the main switch, before leaving the house, so that no short circuit would occur. Her eyes and throat were on fire. Slowly, and painfully, she turned to her right and felt a sudden contraction in her womb. She let out a gasp of relief even in her agony.  She waited for a few more tensed moments for a repetition of the movement, a confirmation of the fact that the life was still persisting inside her. 

With a lot of effort, she pulled her heavy frame out the bed and with faltering steps, moved towards the kitchen, for a glass of water, her nose and mouth covered with the end of her sari. Although it was morning, it seemed dim and dark, as a haze seeped in through the gaps in the windows. A strange odour permeated the entire house. Sunil had shouted out, to her to stay in, and to avoid going near the windows, which luckily, they had closed the previous night before going to sleep as a chilly wind was blowing, as he rushed out towards four in the morning on hearing the blaring of sirens from the plant, leaving behind a scared, stricken and heavily pregnant Rashi. Sunil was a senior engineer at the plant.

She was panting by the time she could catch hold of the kitchen slab. Lately, during the course of regular house chores, like sweeping the floor, she would feel a little out of breath, but, this gasping for air, just because she had to walk a few steps, scared her. She stared at the circle of light that poured in through the round breach in the tiles on the roof that fell directly on top of the earthen pitcher, where she stored her drinking water and was stupefied. The familiar yellow orb that greeted her every morning was staring at her as if with blood-shot eyes. 

Rashi tried to pick up sounds, that was familiar around their house during this part of the day. Though they lived in a quiet corner of JayprakashNagar, the squeals of school going children, the clanking of aluminium milk cans on bicycle wheels, Rajni didi’s voice as she argued with her husband almost every other day, next door, was an unchanging occurrence. But the only sound she got to hear was that of her own heavy breaths. It seemed as if she was living a childhood nightmare, where demons and monsters appeared to have devoured all traces of life, and burnt to ashes all that was green and blue and yellow with their fiery breath. 

She pried open the back door, and for the first time, stepped out, after Sunil had left for the plant after the sound of sirens and shrieks and wails of afflicted and wounded souls. Her being still shuddered at that memory, at the incoherent ravings of insanity the forced itself upon a blissful winter night. Her yard was just the same with the flower pot with the Tulsi plant at the left, her pomegranate tree which had borne fruits for the first time that summer, the mango tree, that both of them had planted together, the grass on the porch which had dried up in winter into a pale brown, the Peepul tree in the corner, that provided shade to a better part of the yard, her pink sariwhich fluttered in the morning breeze, on the clothes line, along with Sunil’s shirt, holding onto each other, the wild roses that grew stray on her fence, all looked the same, excepting for the dense haze that had descended on them and had ascertained that, life as she knew it, would never be similar again, would never succeed in touching her deep end, ever again. This comfort of familiarity, this warmth of mundane, repetitive, routine life, the solace of waiting for Sunil, would never be hers again. She picked up the crumpled bed sheet, covered herself as best as she could, locked the front door, out of sheer habit and stepped onto the main thoroughfare.

The roads were crammed with bodies, sprawled by the drain, crouching in the middle of the lane, vomiting out vicious coloured wastes, corpses of dogs, jostling for space with that of men, women and children. There were writhing and screaming forms everywhere. Rashi’s breathlessness increased, and she felt an itching in her throat as her knees buckled. She dropped on the dust and filth, staring with a glazed look at children running about in panic, tears streaming down their faces, caked with mud and dirt, looking for their lost parents. Right at that moment realization streaked through her numbness, as she gathered herself up. She had to rush to Hamidia Hospital. She had to save her child. She needed to get as far off as possible from the vicinity of the plant. 

With nobody to tell her the safe way out, she stumbled her way in and out of bodies with bloated and distended bellies, beginning to rot, attracting vultures and dogs and amongst panic-stricken, hysterical people running amock, and hideous sights of carcasses of dead cattle all over the gas affected area, she was lucky enough to be stopped by an army truck, which was headed towards Hamidia Hospital. The truck was teeming to the brim, each face an untold story of grief, pain and agony. The truck was manned by two young sepoys, who were muttering to themselves under their breath, as they covered their mouth and noses with face masks. Rashi overheard them saying that the toxic gas methyl isocyanate that had spread from the Union Carbide pesticide plant had already killed thousands and that more were about to die from the delayed effect of the gas. 

Thousands were fleeing to nearby, Hoshangabad, Indore, Raisen, Ujjain, Ratlam, Sehore and even to Nagpur in cycles, taxis, auto-rickshaws, tempos, trucks. Scooters had whole families on them. A police van carrying a public announcement system, moved past their truck, announcing that the gas had settled and that it was safe to go back home. This added to more chaos and confusion as unsuspecting people were exposed to a greater danger. 

Rashi’s eyes were burning and watering and she started retching and vomiting. Added to that she felt contractions in her uterus, which were increasing in frequency and getting stronger as time passed. The switchover from the comfort and security of a happy family life to this repulsive and sickening reality was so sharp and stark that it was challenging and herculean for her to let it sink in, let alone accept it. 

At Bhopal’s twelve-hundred bedded, Hamidia Hospital, a macabre drama unfolded before Rashi’s eyes. Corpses by hundreds were dumped in front of the hospital and patients complaining of eye and throat irritation as well as vomiting were trying to climb up the walls and gates of an already overflowing hospital. There were not enough doctors or medicines, prepped for the occasion. The medical and the paramedics were overwhelmed and bewildered with the situation themselves. In front of hundreds of helpless parents, children were breathing their last. The floor was splattered with blood and vomit. By noon, the hospital was crammed with over twenty five thousand patients. Rashi’s contractions were becoming severe by the hour and there was nobody that she could call out for help. She hoped against hope that Sunil would be here, somewhere in this crowd. 

Rashi felt herself being carried off in a semi conscious state, as her coughs were interspersed with violent contractions. A well intentioned but hyper middle aged lady was trying to help Rashi deliver. She kept screaming at Rashi to push harder. Rashi was lying on the floor in a puddle of blood in full public view and pushing with all her strength. Her coughs and contractions continued till she could bear it no more. Just before passing out, she felt the tip of her child’s head from between the junction of her legs. Then it was only darkness. 

The child entered the world with almost a vulgar show of life and screamed out with as much ferocity that his little pair of lungs could afford. It squirmed and moved towards his mother’s still body in search of some warmth, until somebody came and separated the living from the dead by severing the umbilical cord. The child was not aware of the callousness of the Union Carbide officials, he was not conscious of the injustice meted out by the administration, he did not know about the savagery and the depravity that he had been born into. He only knew by instinct that he had to live. And as the child was opening his eyes to the world where he intended to live and start his personal fight for life, Sunil was seen to be entering the Hamidia hospital premises in search of his pregnant wife.